


Porthos and Aramis' Big Unprecedented Unwanted Unneeded Unplanned...Adventure (Through Hell)

by Elvesliketrees



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Aramis is having a worse one, Athos just wants to go home, Conspiracies, Humor, Kindapping, Love, Men who have no common sense, Multi, Porthos is having a bad day, Red AU, Romance, Treville is done, Violence, antics, d'Artagnan is done, kind of not, kind of slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-30 14:44:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3940732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvesliketrees/pseuds/Elvesliketrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Porthos walks into his New York apartment, he certainly wasn't expecting two hitmen to be waiting there for him. He was a normal guy! However, he's pitted against time to clear his name. Cue two angry and unwilling accomplices, one bad-ass police captain, and one CIA agent who just wants to go back to his wife' s loving arms. Based off the 2010 comedy "Red".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting Porthos

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Thank you for reading! I just kind of got this idea, and we'll see how far we get! This is a fic that is based off the events of the 2010 movie "Red". Its not going to be an exact rendition, but there are going to be allot of things similar. I'm not sure how far I'm going to go with this, so let's just run with it and have a good time:). Thank you again for reading and please note that I own neither the Musketeers nor Red!

Aramis was having a bad day, a really bad day. His work as at the hospital had been brutal, he'd had to run a ten hour shift plus had to stay an extra hour when Alice's car wouldn't start! He was home and ready for a stiff drink. He tossed his shoes by the door and stripped off his scrubs as he walked. He reefed through his drawer for his favorite pair of sweats, only to find that they were gone! He reefed through his entire dresser, threw clothes on the floor and everything, but his pair of sweats was nowhere to be found. He also noticed that at least  _five_ pairs of jeans were missing! When he went through his shirts, all his favorites were gone. Okay, this was a little weird, but nothing big, he probably forgot them in the dryer, though he could have sworn he'd folded them yesterday. He pulled on some ratty sweats and a worn shirt and logged onto his computer. He'd been trying online dating for the last month (not like he could find the time for anything else) and had really hit it off with a man named Porthos du Vallon. He seemed really nice, and Aramis was fairly sure that he wasn't too much of a stalker (no matter what his mother frequently said), and they may even be close to meeting! However, there were no new messages on his account, and Aramis closed his laptop with a sigh. Ah well, time to watch HBO Go and have a glass of red wine. He wanted to brush the weird taste out of his mouth from work and brush his hair at least, and so he padded into the bathroom. His hairbrush and toothbrush were not there. Okay, this was officially creepy! Heaving an exasperated sigh, he stomped out of the bathroom and poured a very large glass of wine. He was settled down on the couch when he heard a door open and close. "Hello?" he asked. No answer. Great! He was now officially scared. Had his door been messed with?! And what kind of home invader takes clothes?! He set the wine down and looked around. Maybe it was time to call his mother, or maybe building security, or his mother. He reached for his phone and was about to pick it up when a hand clasped his arm. He yelped and turned around instantly, brandishing the remote like a weapon. Ironically, the large man standing behind him lifted his hands like he was on the end of a gun. "Who the hell are you?!" Aramis yelled, "And how did you get in here?!" 

"The door was unlocked," the large man said cautiously, "And its me, Porthos, surprise!" The man held up a large bunch of flowers with a sheepish smile. There were numerous things wrong with this scenario. 1. It was 10 pm. 2. Aramis did not know this man. 3. This man had apparently stolen Aramis' clothes and hygienic supplies (Rude!). 4. Aramis had never invited this man into his home. 5. This man apparently had a fear of remotes. 

"Um hi Porthos," Aramis said with a small wave. Inch slowly towards the phone Aramis. 911 Aramis. 911! The man apparently noticed his movements and dove forward, but Aramis brandished the remote threateningly towards him. 

"I'm really sorry, but I'm in a bit of trouble," Porthos said quietly. 

"Really?" Aramis asked. Oh no, was this going to turn into one of those home invasion/hostage things?! 

"I was comin' home from work, like normal, when I noticed that the door was unlocked! I walked in, and there was two men in there! They tried to shoot me, and I got away, but the people are after me an'..." Porthos said. Mother was right, the internet dating was for creepy weirdos. Fuck his life. 

"Why should I believe you?" he asked. 

"I don't know, I don't know what's goin' on! But if they're feds, they probably hacked my computer and saw your stuff!" Porthos cried. Oh dear. So dear Porthos wasn't here just for a place to crash. 

"Well, I'm very sorry about all this and I'm sure it'll work out, but you have to leave!" Aramis cried. Maybe being forceful would get him away. 

"No, I can't leave you here, they might kill you! I have to take you away!" Porthos cried. Wait. What?! 

"Oh no, I'm sure that once I explain everything to the men that I'm sure aren't violent..." Aramis said with a slight note of hysteria. 

"No, I can protect you, we have to leave! Look, I even have a gun!" Porthos cried, brandishing a weapon out of his coat. Aramis lowered his remote. 

"You can have everything you want in the house, I don't have anything of value," Aramis whispered. 

"I'm ain't a robber, but look, these men are trying to kill me and I can't leave you to them!" Porthos cried. Okay, so this man had obviously panicked and thought that the feds were after them. 

"I'm sure this isn't as bad as you think it is, if you just put the gun down we can think this through!" Aramis cried. 

"But we have ta leave!" Porthos cried. 

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" Aramis cried, once again raising the remote. This man was afraid of remotes, hit him with the remote Aramis! 

"Please?" Porthos asked. 

"Hell no!" Aramis cried. 

"Well, okay then, I didn't want to do this," Porthos sighed. What?! Oh look, duct tape. 

Aramis' bad day went to one of those days you might accidentally clean with gasoline and a match. He wiggled around, trying to see if maybe Porthos hadn't done his kidnapper job right. His ankles were taped together and were folded under him. Nope, nothing there. His wrists were taped together and were movement-free. He had a couple of bands of tape circling his chest. Nope, not going anywhere. Maybe taking a swing at him was a bad idea. Porthos clumped back into the room and set down Aramis' red duffle bag. Maybe if he gave him the stare. Nope, just a pitiful look of apology. "I'm really sorry about this," he sighed. He was  _sorry_? "Did-did I tie you up too tight?" he asked. Well, the idiot seemed to be looking for a response. 

"Mmph!" was the response said idiot was probably looking for and was going to be receiving. Maybe if he thought he did he would untie him and he could make a break for it!

"Oh right...the tape, stupid question anyways," Porthos sighed. Aramis glared at him above the tape that was strapped ear to ear. His world tilted upside down as he was flung over the large man's (quite buff, really) shoulder and he gave a muffled yelp. "Sorry," Porthos whispered. He tried to wiggle down, but his hands were trapped between him and Porthos. With a grunt, Porthos shouldered Aramis' bag and climbed onto the fire escape. The ride down was both terrifying and noisy, and by the time they were at the bottom Aramis knew Porthos du Vallon was an idiot. There was a car parked in the alleyway, and Porthos opened the trunk. Maybe he would just throw the bag in?! Nope. Bag was in and trunk was still open. "Sorry 'bout this, once we get out of town and if you're good, you can sit in the back," Porthos said quietly. Aramis did not dignify with a response, muffled and incoherent or otherwise. It wasn't until Porthos gently set him in the trunk that he panicked. He shook his head, this could not be happening! With another mumbled apology, Porthos gently pushed his head down and settled him on the floor. The trunk was shut with a bang and Aramis realized that Porthos had placed a glowstick in the compartment. Maybe his stalker internet boyfriend wasn't so bad after all. Then the car started and he remembered that he was in a stranger's trunk tied up and gagged, running from supposed feds. It was official, he giving up online dating. 


	2. Road Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys hit the road and Aramis muses on his captor!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, the response has been great, thank you all!

When Aramis sort of came to the next morning, he knew he'd passed out on the couch again. Damn it, the couch was hard and his back did not like it! He wanted to move his arms to push himself up but couldn't! What the hell?! His eyes flew open and took in the gray straps on his chest and the duct tape around his wrists. A little shifting showed him that the tape around his ankles wasn't a dream either, and the fact that there was something very sticky and uncomfortable across his face told him that the tape across his mouth wasn't one either. Damn it! Sometimes Aramis had these really weird and vivid dreams, so there was hope, but after Porthos decided to turn left and slam Aramis into the side of the car, he was forced to face the realization that he was in the trunk of a stalker's car. What would his mother do?! What would the police do?! Oh please let the police do something! The police would be very, very good right now! He occupied his time by listening for police sirens and what bits of the radio drifted into the trunk. After about an hour, he was very hungry and thirsty! Didn't Porthos remember to feed him? What if he didn't?! What if he died of thirst like the school bunny in first grade?! He gave a little moan at the thought and kicked a little at the back seat in vengeance. It seemed that his new stalker boyfriend was also telepathic, as they pulled over to the side of somewhere and Porthos got out. Maybe he'd let Aramis go, have a change of heart or realize that he was being a total psycho? The trunk popped open and Porthos smiled down at him. Aramis had to admit, he had a somewhat nice smile. "Mornin'," Porthos said. Oh really, I didn't realize as I was trussed up like a turkey in your trunk! As Aramis was incapable of this litany right now, he just glared at his not-handsome stalker. "I'm gonna take the tape off your mouth, ya promise you'll be quiet?" Porthos asked with as much force as he could, though it wasn't that much. On one hand, going for another hellish ride in the back of this man's trunk, on the other, not screaming. Aramis nodded. Porthos gave him another smile and slowly took the tape off. It hurt like hell, and Porthos apologized numerous times during the removal. When the tape was finally free, Aramis took a deep breath (he'd never thought of that, the niceness of breathing through one's mouth) through his mouth and looked up at Porthos. "I-I brought ya some breakfast," Porthos said sheepishly, holding up a bag of McDonalds and a water bottle. After the water bottle was taken care of, Aramis saw that he gotten him a McGridle and an orange juice! Those were his favorites! Had creepy stalker remembered them?! Porthos flashed him another smile when he saw the look on his face and helped him eat. After that, it was interesting adventure to the bathroom and then back to the trunk. Porthos retied his ankles and he glared at him. "Sorry, it's gonna have to be the trunk again, we ain't quite away! Definitely up front tomorrow though, you've been really good!" Porthos said reassuringly. Well, at least he'd been a good boy then. Maybe Porthos would take him to get an ice cream cone and  _drop him the fuck off home_. He tugged at the roll of cursed tape again and tugged off another strap. "Sorry," he murmured. Wait, that hadn't been the deal! Aramis hadn't said a word! Not one fucking word! And he'd been good, Porthos said so! Maybe it was time to start screaming. 

"Now listen," he said, and to his utter astonishment Porthos stopped and listened. "If you drop me off now, I won't press charges, I promise! We can forget about this, make it one of those really scary stories that we tell our kids so that they don't do the same stupid shit as we did!" Aramis cried. 

"Sorry," Porthos mumbled, head down. Oh, so the tape was definitely coming on then. Time to start screaming Aramis! 

"No! No...mmph hmm!" he cried. With an apologetic smile, Porthos smoothed out the ends and gave him a sheepish smile. 

"I know, I'm really,  _really_  sorry! It's gettin' kind of cold, do ya-do ya want a blanket?" he asked sheepishly. Aramis continued to glare at him. With a grimace, Porthos scrambled back and took a thick blanket out of the back. He spread it on the floor of Aramis' hell and put him on it. "You know, Flea said that the best thing when to do when takin' someone out is to compliment 'em, I think you have really pretty eyes Aramis," Porthos said shyly. In a great display of benevolence, Aramis rolled said beauties for him. With a grin, Porthos pushed him down again and tucked the blanket around him. Aramis was once again alone with his clothing and his glowstick. Once he really thought about it, perhaps Porthos wasn't so bad after all. He'd only really done what he absolutely had to and hadn't hurt him. Maybe the feds were really after them both and he didn't have the time to convince Aramis that he wasn't a weirdo. Aramis really hadn't given him the benefit of the doubt, and maybe he did need help badly. Well, in any scenario, Porthos had kidnapped him and held him against his will, so that was a big minus. He would have to wait and see how this turned out, though he found himself hoping that Porthos didn't really get into big trouble over this. What was he thinking?! The man had broken into his home, tied him up, and taken him on a ride through hell! He  _deserved_ to be in trouble, would be! These thoughts were way too tiring, and so Aramis closed his eyes and went to sleep (not like there was much else to do). 

\---

*Somewhere in Minnesota

"Oh yes my dear, the conference is going well," d'Artagnan replied as he laid some hair in the shower, "Mhm, I'll be flying home tonight. Oh wine? I don't think so, I'll won't be getting off the flight until 2 am, and we both know how I get after midnight. Oh yeah! I'm excited for the bake sale, I'll be sure to help out with the apple pies! Yes, I love you to dear, I'll see you soon." He clicked the phone off and set some more hair in the bedroom. Richelieu had only said to make it look subtle, no need to bash the cops upside the head with their own conviction. He placed some fingerprints in some good, but not too good, places and passed into the living room, pointedly not looking at the swinging body. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he took it out. 

_New mission. Meet at rendezvous in one hour._

_R_

With a sigh, he texted Constance. He hated his job sometimes. 

\---

When Aramis opened his eyes again, he was being picked up. The blanket was wrapped tight around him to combat the cold air, only his eyes were really visible. He made a confused noise around the tape, and Porthos drew him to his chest. 

"Shh, you have to be quiet!" he admonished. Aramis, still tired (there better have not been anything in that orange juice!) had a brief mental breakdown and relented. He closed his eyes and curled into Porthos, though for what reason he couldn't honestly say. Porthos opened a door and tucked him somewhere. As his eyes drifted closed, he decided that he had imagined the kiss on his brow and the chuckle. When he woke up again, he was in a bed! Shit! He rolled his head around and saw that Porthos was reading on the other bed, at least he was something of a gentleman. The covers were tucked up to his chin, and if not for the grey tape trapping him, this may have been a little romantic. When Porthos saw he was awake, he met him with a smile. 

"Hey, you're awake! I-I'm really sorry, but I have to go and get a few things and call a friend," he said quietly. Oh fuck no! He was not leaving Aramis at a strange hotel, tied up by himself! It didn't work that way! What if an even bigger psycho found the room?! What if Aramis had to pee (actually he kind of did)?! What if Aramis cut his ropes?! Wait. That was a good thing, a very very good thing! Go ahead Porthos, be gone all day! Leave! Never come back! He shoved a pencil and paper towards him. "I noticed that you had HBO on at home, just write down your stuff and I can log you on," Porthos said quietly. With a wary stare, Aramis wrote down his username and password. Not like it would make any difference, this man had already taken him from his home and dragged him along on a distance-as-of-yet-unknown ride of terror. And so, Porthos turned on Game of Thrones and Aramis sulked as people butchered each other on the screen. He was just getting into the first episode when Porthos quietly left. He wiggled around under the covers (still in his old clothes...ew!) and felt around. There was a nail conveniently right by his wrists. That was a safety hazard, what kind of dump did Porthos bring him to?! Was this one of those hotels where they had to call the cops every night because of a murder?! No wonder nobody had said anything after Porthos had carted him in here in  _broad fucking daylight_. Wait, there was a sharp object by Aramis' wrists. A catlike grin emerging from behind the tape, Aramis started to saw at his wrists. 

\---

d'Artagnan got in the car and slid in. Armand de Richelieu, Director of the CIA, sat in the other seat. A small yellow folder was handed to him and d'Artagnan opened it up. A dark-skinned, handsome young man peered back at him. Judging by his record, he seemed pretty normal, the only thing standing out is that he'd been in the system since five. 

"Meet Porthos du Vallon. We have intelligence that he may be involved in one of the large cartels," Richelieu said. 

"Mission?" d'Artagnan asked. 

"Termination. The potential for damage here is too great, and the team we sent after him ended up failing in their mission," Richelieu sighed. 

"Dangerous?" d'Artagnan asked. 

"Very," Richelieu responded. With a raised brow, d'Artagnan climbed out the car and went to his plane. Five minutes later, they were up in the air and heading for New York. As he went through du Vallon's records, he noticed an anomaly. 

"At least one message a day to this Aramis d'Herblay," he said quietly. A missing person's notice (too early for an official report as of yet) popped up, and d'Artagnan raised a brow. "How did they not notice this?!" he muttered. Just then, an active 911 call popped onto the screen. "Dean, call Rochefort and tell him has an intercept at the Super 8 in Yonkers, New York! We're heading to New York!" he cried. The idiot was probably headed out of state, if he were him that's where he'd be headed, out of state and out of local authority. 

\---

Haha, he was free! He ripped the tape from his red wrists and gave a muffled yell of triumph. He was able to pick the bottom strap loose from his chest, and the top came much easier. With a relieved sigh, he ripped the tape from his mouth and freed his ankles. Now to blow this hellhole! He dashed over to the phone and quickly dialed 911. 

_"911 what is your emergency?"_

Fifteen minutes later, he was in the back of an ambulance and adamantly telling the paramedics that he was perfectly fine. It was time to get back to his mother and his wonderful, boring life. A man with blonde hair and a kind of creepy smile walked over to Aramis. You're being paranoid Aramis. Look, he has a cop uniform and everything! 

"If you would just come down to the station, we'll need to take your statement and fill out some paperwork to take you home," he said with a smile. 

"Oh yeah sure, I'd like to go up to the room and get my bag, it just has some clothes and basic hygiene stuff in it," Aramis replied. 

"Oh I can have someone pick it up for you, there's no need!" the man said way too nicely. 

"But..." Aramis protested. A firm hand found itself on his arm and he was led away. 

"We're going to the station damn it!" the man growled. 

"Ow, hey what the hell?!" Aramis cried, twisting in his grip. He was sure this was in the cop handbook of things not to do to people! He was shoved up against a car and a needle plunged into his neck. Aramis gave a yell as something totally got injected into him. He kicked himself, he knew he should've told Porthos to stay! This weirdo was definitely under the category of crazier pyscho! Warmth flooded through him and the world turned blue. How wonderful! There was a strange pressure on his arm, but Aramis was sure this stranger was well-meaning. Just then, said stranger went for a road trip in the air and he was turned around. New adventures around every corner! Porthos looked down at him in concern. Why was Porthos scared, this was fucking amazing! He wrapped his arms around Porthos. "Porthos you're here!" he chirped, "How were your errands?" 

"Umm, went rather well actually, I think its best we get in the car now," Porthos murmured. 

"But I don't wanna, the police were here, and this guy was gonna take me to get some papers, and then he gave me this wonderful stuff in my neck, and now the world's blue!" Aramis chirped. Without even waiting for a response, Porthos took him in his arms and ran for the car. There wasn't anyone around it, and Aramis was gently placed in the front. 

"See, I was a good boy, a very good boy! Can we go home now?" he asked. 

"Nope, got some more stuff to do Aramis," he murmured, and he sounded kind of scared! Men were running for the car, but Porthos was able to pull away. 

"Porthos, I don't feel well," Aramis murmured. 

"We'll stop soon," he responded. Suddenly, there was a crash at the back of their car. Aramis looked back to see a big black sedan trying to ram them. 

"Hey, that's not very nice, this isn't bumper cars!" he cried. 

"Aramis, put your seat belt on!" Porthos commanded. There was a boom, and a gunshot went through the back. Porthos gave a little yell, and Aramis gasped. 

"I hope you have insurance mister, because you're gonna get a bill!" he cried. Porthos laughed and yanked the car to the right. It sounded like he was swearing under his breath. "We need to call the police!" Aramis cried. Porthos looked at him with big eyes. 

"Aramis, you're a genius," he said. He whipped out his cellphone and quickly dialed 911. "Hello? Some guy's chasing us at 32 and Grand! I-I don't know why, he just started rammin' us! Please send help, we're about to go under a bridge and loose reception!" he cried. With that Porthos hung up and smiled at Aramis. "Ready for a road trip?" he asked. 

"Well yeah, I love those things! But did we ask my mother, she doesn't like me disappearing!" he said. 

"Um...yeah she said it was fine! Do you wanna take a nap?" Porthos asked. Suddenly, Aramis was very,very tired. 

"I think I will, but Porthos?" he asked. 

"Yeah Aramis?" he asked. 

"I think there maybe somebody tryin' to kill us," he whispered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	3. Meeting New People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porthos and Aramis get to know one another, and Porthos receives the name of the first person to investigate him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots and lots and lots of talking, not as much humor :(, at least in the first part. But hey, Porthos and Aramis had to talk sometime, and Porthos still has to explain what happened! Thank you for reading!

Aramis was warm and hugging something very soft. His head was also on something very soft. He decided that this was a very nice change. Wait? Where was he? Did the crazier psycho get whatever the hell he wanted?! His head was pounding, and his mind was really fuzzy. He blinked open his eyes and saw that he was clinging to Porthos' arm, and snuggling up to Porthos' shoulder. Judging by the smile on Porthos' face, the man did not seem too angry at this new development. Aramis was not tied up, which he was incredibly happy about. "Hey, are you alright, do-do you need to go to the hospital? There's a hospital about twenty minutes away and if I tell them..." Porthos panicked. 

"Porthos, we  _cannot_  go to the hospital! I have a bit of a headache, and my head's kinda woozy, but nothing major! What did he put in me?!" Aramis groaned. 

"I don't know, you got shot up yesterday and I haven't been able to wake you up," Porthos sighed. 

"Well, I'm up now. Besides, I don't think that hospitals would take the 'I swear this man shot it into my neck for me!' explanation!" Aramis chuckled. 

"Yeah, probably not," Porthos sighed, "But hey, you seem a little bit more open to the idea!"

"Well, getting shot at does open one's eyes. I'm sorry that I was...uncooperative," Aramis murmured. 

"I woulda been too, if someone had just shown up at my house and demanded I come with them, I'm sorry for kidnappin' ya," he replied. 

"My mother might have a few choice words for you, but I think that I understand that this was for my own good," Aramis said cautiously, no need to let the man think he was getting away with murder. Porthos groaned. 

"Your family's gonna kill me, I ain't gonna be allowed near ya again!" he moaned. 

"My mother will probably kill you, but don't worry, I'll make sure to shed a few tears," Aramis said with a smile. 

"I'm honored," Porthos deadpanned. Aramis laughed, and Porthos gave him a grin. Maybe this cross-country ride of terror wasn't so terrifying. 

"Who do you think these people are, what do they want with you?" he asked. 

"I came home Friday, just like I said, to find these two guys in my living room. They looked like somethin' out of  _Mission Impossible_ , I swear! They had black clothes and masks and guns and everythin'! Somehow I got out the back door, got around to my car, and drove off like a bat outta hell. I realized they weren't cops and I called my friend Flea. She's a detective in the NYPD and might have known a thing or two. She said they'd received an arrest warrant from the feds, with evidence that I'd been involved with some gang, and then came in and strong-armed the entire thing. She-she said that one of my buddies from when I was a kid, Charon, was in drugs, and they had video evidence and everythin' that I was involved with 'im. They had eyewitness statements and all, but I swear I didn't do anythin'!" he cried, "And I don't know why they're tryin' to kill me!" 

"Alright, alright, calm down. I believe you! Is there anyone who can be added to that list?" Aramis asked. 

"No, I've been in the system since I was five, knew Charon, and worked in the neighborhood because of my job as a social worker. No one's gonna believe me," Porthos said quietly. 

"We need to find out whoever the hell planted the evidence," Aramis murmured. 

"My friend Ninon, she works with the Senate, she might be able to pull some strings, see who looked me up around the date shit went nuts," Porthos sighed. 

"Alright, where are we?" Aramis asked. 

"A pretty good way into Virginia, about an hour from D.C.," he said. 

"Well how convenient, are you sure you've never been on the lamb before sir?" he drawled. 

"Aramis?" came the question. He gave him an absent-minded hum. He had allot of things to think about. 

"Can-can I take you out to dinner?" Porthos asked tentatively. Aramis laughed, and Porthos looked at him with a hurt expression. 

"Porthos my dear, you are a complete gentleman! We are on the run from federal assassins, I'm quite sure that the only way we'll be eating is together," Aramis laughed. 

"Eh now, I don't wanna hear how I haven't been treatin' you right these last few days," Porthos shot back with a smile. 

"Oh yes, a thrilling ride down the fire escape, a wonderful nap in your trunk, carrying me in a blanket, watching over me while I slept, making sure I was entertained, rescuing me from crazy psychos, even putting up with my high antics! Porthos, I'd say that you're doing well!" Aramis said warmly. A blush colored the man's cheeks and he looked down. 

"Yeah, I guess I ain't _exactly_ been a gentleman," he murmured. With a sigh, Aramis looked up at him, better address this now before the man wallowed in his shame. He had the gun after all. 

"I'm not happy, at all, that you kidnapped me, but I think that you did what you could in a bad place. I wouldn't have went with you, and you were only trying to save my life," Aramis sighed. Porthos looked down at him with incredulous eyes. 

"So, I ain't-I ain't kicked to the curb?" he asked. 

"You have the gun and the friend. Hell no! When this is done and I'm back to living a semi-normal life and my mother lets me out of her sight, we'll talk," he said. Porthos nodded. They soon came up to a diner that looked decent. At least Aramis was sure they wouldn't be attacked on the spot or stabbed for their wallets in the parking lot. He dug ravenously into his cheeseburger while Porthos slowly ate some ribs. 

"So," he said shyly, "Tell me about yourself." 

\---

d'Artagnan was done. He was done-er than done, really. d'Artagnan felt the distinctive urge to throttle the man in front of him. On and on his lecture had gone, the feds tearing up his streets, the feds shooting at people, the feds injecting kidnap victims with God-only-knows-what (d'Artagnan was curious to see how Rochefort, ass-hat that he was, was going to explain  _that_ one).... The bake sale was in five days and he was still in handcuffs. The man's badge said "Captain Jean Treville", and his blonde hair was starting to thin. His brown eyes were still sharp as anything though. Nope, no old age there. 

"Listen, I'm really,  _really_ , sorry about Agent Rochefort, rest assured our Director will have a few choice words for him (so many words)," d'Artagnan placated, "But please understand that Porthos du Vallon is a threat to national security that must be brought to justice. And of course we must return Mr. d'Herblay to his family, they must be so worried!" 

"I don't like this Agent d'Artagnan. I know that you have jurisdiction, but considering that you just conducted a high speed chase in our streets for absolutely no reason and proceeded to shoot at a car containing a hostage, I feel that I can't let you walk out and know that proper justice will be served. Mr. du Vallon deserves a trial, same as anyone else," Treville stated stubbornly, "And it's not the CIA that'll get pinned for the murder, the State of New York is responsible for both criminal and hostage." Shit. An honest man then, the wrench in every CIA operative's wheel (or so Richelieu kept bashing into his head), but d'Artagnan couldn't really blame him for making sure that the state didn't end up with two bodies. 

"The CIA has a policy for these situations. In special circumstances, a representative from a law enforcement agency from the prosecuting state may accompany the agent on his or her operation, as long as the CIA still runs point," d'Artagnan stated. He was not looking forward to spending an inordinate amount of time in a vehicle with this man, but if it got him out of these handcuffs...

"I'll pack my bags," Treville murmured as he unlocked the cuffs. d'Artagnan decided not to mention that his orders were to shoot du Vallon (d'Herblay would probably end up collateral) and go home. 

\---

This was going well. This was going very, very well. It almost seemed like they were just two normal guys out on a date, they even argued over who would pay (Porthos won, due to the fact that he had not done his kidnapper job in remembering Aramis' wallet)! Well, details were small and therefore irrelevant. The only thing that really put a damper on things was the fact that Aramis' disappearance happened to be on the news. Perhaps he ought to call his mother. No, better that she believe that he was in the back of a psycho's van than helping his online boyfriend take down as-of-yet-unknown feds. She might guilt him home if she knew. Aramis didn't really feel like having Porthos take him all the way back to New York after he spent so much effort evading New York law enforcement (and he really didn't want her to murder Porthos with her big knife). Porthos would probably tell him no anyways, and Aramis wasn't sure how far the feds were willing to go in concerns to him. Though he was still an innocent kidnap victim in the eyes of the media. They decided that it was an appropriate idea to leave after that, Porthos even let Aramis borrow his hat! They drove to a slightly-less-trashy motel (probably because Porthos didn't have to cart tied-up him into a room and that tended to look weird to decent people) and parked the car. Porthos had somehow retrieved Aramis' red duffel, and the two quickly unloaded the car. 

"Can I walk ya to your room?" Porthos asked innocently. Aramis raised an eyebrow. 

"Yes?" he asked confusedly. 

"At least let me pretend this is normal!" Porthos groaned.

"Yes, though many of my dates have made the request for a trashy motel after dinner, none have gone so far as to break several international laws in the process!" Aramis groaned dramatically. 

"Well, I'm a special guy," Porthos joked. He hoisted the duffel on his shoulder and walked Aramis to their room. They watched Game of Thrones again and went to bed after two episodes. When they had lain in bed for a short while, Aramis heard shifting from Porthos' bed. "Aramis, you still awake?" he asked. 

"No," Aramis groaned. A slight huff of amusement came from three feet away. 

"You-you know that if you asked me to go back to New York and drop you off, I would right?" he asked. Well, that was nice to know, actually. 

"Thank you Porthos...that means allot. But I can't go back, not if I don't know whether they'll come after me," Aramis said. 

"Yeah, that's probably best," Porthos said quietly, "G'night Aramis...I had fun tonight." Aramis wished him goodnight, turned over, and did not sleep at all that night. When they met a blonde woman with piercing eyes in a restaurant, Aramis couldn't stop looking everywhere. 

"Don't worry, she assured, "I made sure that no one followed me." Porthos leaned in and looked at her. 

"Thank you Ninon, I know how much you could get burned for this," he whispered. 

"I won't let you get railroaded Porthos, just-just fix this. The access that was near the date of your incident was logged under the name Milady. She's a CIA Agent supposedly under the employ of Richelieu, though that's not official. Her aliases are Anne de Breuil, Anne de la Fere, it goes on. You'll need to find her. She's divorced, her ex lives near Langley, they moved there from New York after she got a job as a "museum curator" conveniently close to the CIA headquarters. That's all I have," she sighed. 

"You've done plenty, this is way more than we had to go on before," Porthos assured her, "What's the name of the ex?"

"Athos, Athos de la Fere, if anyone knows where she might have gone, it's him," Ninon sighed, "Now I have to go." Porthos and Aramis hit the road once more, Aramis clasping an address in his hand. The suburbs around Langley are a two-hour drive, and Porthos and he pass the time by talking. Porthos talks about his foster mother Sarah, a fierce goddess from above who took him in when he was ten. Aramis talks about his work as a nurse, some of the people he meets and the cases he sees. The city falls away and the houses begin. It's a typical suburb, the smaller houses closer to the city, growing larger as they get out of it. Soon, the houses tower over them, looming structures of brick and mortar. Aramis suppresses the urge to take pictures. 

"4900, there it is," Aramis stated. He prayed to the gods above that Athos wasn't a psycho or a law-abiding citizen or a serial killer. The lawn was long and obviously hadn't been mowed in a while. The house wasn't in disrepair or anything, and Aramis had to wonder which of three types Athos was. Because it is obvious that Athos is one of these three types. Aramis wonders if they should have taken the tape out of the back before going and knocking on the door. Breathe Aramis, Porthos is here, Porthos has a gun. Porthos is also afraid of remotes. Dear God, please let Athos not be armed with a remote. Aramis lifts his hand and knocks, and there is a huge banging from inside the house. Perhaps Athos is going to murder them all. A man lurched to the door, and it was forcefully opened. Alright Aramis, give him the nice smile that's borderline-Purge without the psycho. "Good afternoon sir," he chirps, "We just had a few questions for you." Athos looks from one of them to the other. Aramis had forgotten a category, professional drunk did not once cross his mind as something that Athos would perhaps be. However, the signs are obvious. He has a stumble to his step, his eyes scream the question as to what the hell they're doing there, and he clasps a bottle of red wine like Aramis clutched his remote control so many nights ago. His brown hair is messy in a controlled way that makes Aramis jealous, and he is clad in a nice t-shirt and jeans. Socks are on his feet, and his icy eyes peer confusedly out from underneath his bangs. Great, now they get to deal with a drunk. 

"Don' wan' any," he slurs, slamming the door in their faces. Porthos looks at Aramis, and Aramis looks back. 

"We need to know where she is," Porthos grunted, and he banged on the door, "Eh now, I know this really isn't a good time, but we really need to talk to ya Mr. de la Fere!" A groan comes from the inside. 

"Porthos my dear (pointedly ignore way that Porthos blushes at endearment), I don't think he's sober enough to realize that we're being firm," Aramis states. 

"Righto then," Porthos grunts. He lifts up his leg, and miracle of miracles, Athos' door makes the decision to let them in...from across the hall. Breaking and entering it is then. Aramis casually steps into the hall to find Athos staring at them. He looked down at the wine bottle and glared at Aramis. Suddenly, there was a bottle flying at his head, and Aramis dropped to his knees with a squeak. It shattered on the wall and Aramis stared at the splatter on the wall. Oh shit. Well then. 

"Get outta my house!" Athos bellowed. With that, he turned tail and ran like a rabbit. 

"He handles his alcohol well," Aramis mused as Porthos thundered by him. There was a crash in the kitchen, and Aramis skidded around the corner. Athos was sprawled on the floor, clawing desperately for a phone. 

"Lemme go!" he grunted. 

"We just have a few questions, you're the one who attacked us!" Porthos bellowed. 

"Porthos my dear, do remember that we broke this poor man's door. Athos, we just have a few questions about your ex-wife, and then we shall leave you to drink yourself to death in peace," Aramis stated. Athos gave them a stunned glare, and Porthos loosened his grip with a relieved sigh. Athos took the chance to escape. Luckily, Aramis was able to throw the phone against the wall and break it before Athos could do the smart thing and call the cops. With a feral snarl, he dashed up some stairs, knocking a bookcase to the floor as he went. Luckily, Aramis was a fairly agile person and was able to clear the bookshelf. He darted up the stairs as Porthos was still navigating the second shelf, swearing at Athos as he went. Aramis got up onto the second story, looked left and right before following the footprints. He really didn't see the baseball bat coming. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again, I would love to hear from you and see if you liked it and want it continued!


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